


Obsession

by Anonymous



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Abduction, Abuse of Authority, Abusive Relationships, Blackmail, Character Death will be touched on, Controlling Ernesto, Creepy Ernesto, Department of Afterlife Affairs, Dubious Consent, Emotional Abuse, Ernesto's Biased Pov, F/M, Gaslighting, Héctor Suffering, Imprisonment, Isolation, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Ernesto, Power Imbalance, Shantytown, Stalking, Status Differences, Unhealthy Relationships, coerced sex, oneshots, psychological abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-03-31 00:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19038595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Just a series of oneshots or short(two to three chapter) stories based around Obsession and unhealthy relationships. Will mostly be onesided Ernector, but that doesn't exclude other kinds of ships making their way in.Primarily:Ernesto/Héctor and OC/HéctorMajor Warnings for:Rape/non con, abuse, possessive unhealthy behaviour, obsession, stalking, gaslighting and manipulation. Not for the faint of heart.Please do not take any of these as romantic.





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Please! For every single story that will be in this collection do not pretend to read them as romantic. These behaviours are supposed to be viewed in a creepy and not nice light. Nobody doing these things is a good person and in reality such actions have horrible dire consequences.
> 
> I do not condone rape/stalking/abuse or anything else that may be portrayed in these stories. Each chapter/fic will come with individual warnings so please, you know what you can handle and take heed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warnings:** Rape/non-con, Possessive Behaviour, Biased Viewpoint(Ernesto's viewpoint), semi-public _(it does happen at the department after all)_ , Creepy behaviour

It is hardly the optimal place for a reunion if anyone were to ask him. A small almost plain room, the only dressings a couple of couches and the low table.

Hardly the kind of place he would have selected for a reunion. Yet he merely arches a browridge before settling himself down. Content to relax and await the officer’s return with his _old friend_ in tow.

“Ernesto!” The voice washes over him, both tone and inflection drawing such a rush of memories, thoughts and feelings. As if between them nothing has changed.

“Héctor!” He raises up from the couch, a beaming grin on his face. Héctor hardly looks any different from memory, still that tall gangly boy, all limbs and not much else. Although Héctor’s clothing, it is hardly as it once was. Looking worn and faded, even his shoes. But he hardly cares, giving his old friend a winning smile before directing his gaze to the officer. “Now, I do believe we'll be allowed the time to _privately_ catch up?”

The officer glances between them. Seeming almost, wary of leaving them alone. But after that glance the man nods and leaves them. He won't come back until called.

Alone now, with _Héctor_ he gives another winning grin. “Shall we take our seats then? We have much to discuss!” Héctor's eyes snap to him. He merely waves him over to the other couch frowning at how stilted, nervous Héctor is settling on it as he returns to his own.

There's a period of silence that just seems to stretch out. Neither of them seeming quite sure where to begin. _It's been years._

“Er-Ernesto,” finally after a swallow Héctor begins, shifting around to face him all the easier. “C-can I ask you… wh-why?”

Now that's a question that could have _many answers_. Answers that depend on exactly what he's asking the _why_ for. Ernesto's eyes ever so faintly narrow, it feels impossible that the why would be for _that_. Impossible, so what else is there, oh, the rest of it.

“Ay dios… lo siento Héctor” he has long since perfected this kind of performance. Mixing together the perfect sense of sheepish regret. “I just assumed--”

“You assumed?” Héctor’s expression screws up in that adorable way, almost more akin to a pout than true anger. “Ernesto--”

“I mean when there was no letter from--”

“She… she never asked…” Héctor deflates back into the chair. Looking lost, small and lonely. Ernesto feels the need to stand up and go to him. Comfort and assure him even as he shakes his head no.

_She never asked._

Whether that was because she trusted him, didn't even really trust Héctor or what. It didn't matter. He'd spent months, _years_ looking over his shoulder for her or a mail carrier with her demands that he cease. Bring Héctor and his songs home.

Demands that never came.

“Lo siento Héctor… but after you died and with no word…” he lets the younger man fill in the rest.

“Y-you merely continued with what appeared to be permission to do so but--” Héctor's expression pulls tight, pained and Ernesto moves. Fluid and swift he's sooner on the opposite couch aside Héctor. One arm wrapping around the younger skeleton and pressing him close.

The position, familiar as it is, a position of comfort brings a wash of feelings to him. Stirring something in his bones even as Héctor, trembling leans in seeking that comfort.

“I should have ensured, that when I handed over the songbook, _your songbook_ , with your name and writing in it that it was attributed to you” he softly says lowering his head to rest in the younger’s soft and fluffy hair. “I never meant to hurt you” Marvelling in the shudder that goes through their bones together when he moves to better cradle him.

Just from such a small action?

They simply sit like that for a while. Ernesto holding Héctor as he trembles, bones shaking with something Ernesto can't quite place.

It's a familiar closeness that Ernesto relishes in. Even as he uses it to take further stock of his friend’s state. What he finds draws a displeased furrow to his brow.

Héctor’s clothing isn't just _worn,_ but it's practically _threadbare_ , he can almost see through parts of Héctor's shirt and his pants are only better by the virtue of have patches and a belt that looks new-ish. His hair as well, still fluffy and messy, but without the signature sheen and shine he's come to expect from it, also faintly scratchy possibly matted under his chin. And then there's the state of Héctor’s bones against his own.

All together it paints a most disheartening image. _Héctor has been woefully neglected._

“Héctor,” he feels his friend stiffen, head raising so those wide expressive, doe brown, red tinted eyes can look up at him. Eyes that he now realizes are filled with pain, hardship and suffering that matches the tale his clothing tells. A certain world wary distrust that burns and itches in Ernesto's bones. He wants to take that look out of Héctor. Far away from him, to wrap the younger in the security and finery that he-- that _they_ deserve. “Oh, Héctor… how did you end up in such a state…” he brushes Héctor’s hair back, eyes soft.

He wants to assure Héctor that it will be the end of his suffering in what would appear to be poverty on the streets. Wants to make it clear that he won't let the younger go again.

Something must show in his expression, his eyes as Héctor’s own flash and the younger awkwardly attempts to leave his grasp.

“O-okay Ernesto I thi-”

“No!” He pulls Héctor back down. Ignoring his yelp as he wraps his arms closer. He is not letting him go, not again. “Héctor, I will change this! Lo prometo! I will keep you _safe_.” He insists as Héctor shifts, squirming faintly in his hold. Bones rubbing through his fine mariachi suit and--

He sharply inhales, Héctor going stock still.

“I-I, Ernesto, I wouldn't want to be a burden for you.” He barely hears Héctor’s words when the younger again tries to remove himself from his hold. For a moment he lets him. For a moment, he watches as Héctor pulls back, offering the most notoriously sheepish grin, mixed with guilt and unease and--

Héctor’s yelp is drowned out by him pressing the younger down. He just wants to wipe away that pretend, _I'm fine_ grin. So he follows the motion, finding himself over Héctor. Héctor who stares up with such wide eyes.

He quite likes that expression.

“Ernesto wha--” He closes the distance between them. Encouraged by the rushing roar in his now gone ears and the way Héctor isn't struggling or pushing him away. He'd forgotten.

For a moment he'd forgotten how much he _wanted_ this. His lips press down, hungrily searching for and meeting Héctor’s. The kiss is filled with as many promises as he can convey.

_I want you, need you, you're mine, I'll keep you safe!_

After a few moments with Héctor stiff in overwhelmed shock beneath him, he draws back. Relishing in the dazed and somewhat flustered expression he receives from Héctor.

“Er-Ernesto I--”

“I promise you this Héctor,” He cuts the younger man off, a hand moving to brush back Héctor’s hair once more. Clearing the view of his markings and eyes. “You are no burden to me. I _want_ to take care of you! Keep you _safe_!”

He can feel Héctor tremble beneath him as he leans down once more, wondering at the reaction. Promises heady and heavy in the air as their foreheads meet and he just breathes. This close he can see everything in Héctor’s eyes. The swirling brown over red and magenta hues, the way Héctor’s pupils shrink and dilate at the closeness as he frames him. _Everything._

“Let me take care of you Héctor! I promise, you won't want for a thing!” He could provide whatever Héctor could possibly want or need. He knows this, has already gotten a taste a glimpse. These people would do _anything_ to make sure a celebrity was comfortable.

Héctor squeezes his eyes shut, breath a shaky exhale.

“Let me--”

“Er-Ernesto please…” Héctor's head faintly shakes. Those magenta-crimson hued eyes opening and meeting his own. Pleading for so much. Pleading for--

“Héctor.” He breathes the younger's name. He wants so much to _show_ Héctor how much he means that. _Show_ him he won't let him go. Never again. Héctor won't ever be left out again.

He has to show Héctor that, reassure him with how much the younger trembles. Still so obviously doubting, a wary nervousness. But there is no reason for it.

“I promise Héctor!” He declares again, firmly catching the younger músico’s gaze with his own. “I promise, now let me take care of you!” Again, their lips meet, a faint bit gentler this time, aiming for reassuring. He presses himself into the kiss, conveying that statement.

_I'll take care of you._

He draws back once more letting out a sigh as Héctor pants. With interest he notes a change in the younger. The faintest of faint glows to his markings. He traces them, one hand free. Héctor shivers under the attention, so clearly not used to this.

Not used to the care. It only makes Ernesto more sure that he _needs_ to do this, to truly _show_ Héctor how much he wants to keep the younger man there with him. He pauses for a moment, considering his next course of action while Héctor waits silently.

And why should he make Héctor wait any longer. There's a thrumming in his bones, a burning rising need to act now. His hands drift, touches light and gentle, reassurances really. Héctor trembles, letting out small gasps.

Encouraged, because Héctor still isn't objecting Ernesto moves to his shirt. As he carefully removes Héctor’s shirt he reacts. Hands coming up to curl around his wrists, eyes wide.

“Wa-wait! Ernesto!”

“Don't worry!” He sighs, very gently shaking off Héctor’s grip. “I assure you, the officer will only come back when called!” For whatever reason Héctor seems no more assured. Squirming beneath him as he finishes removing the threadbare shirt. Héctor’s ribcage rises and falls rapidly under his gaze, it makes him faintly frown. Héctor again shakes his head faintly. Chewing on his lip as Ernesto's hands run over his ribcage.

“Er-Ernesto please I-”

“Calmarse Héctor!” He hushes him, returning a hand up to cradle Héctor’s face. “Calmarse, let me take care of you!”  Héctor _whimpers_ , sounding so scared and lost. But Ernesto knows what he is doing. This is for both of them. Still Héctor’s squirming is nothing if not distracting. Rushed breaths and that fear and insecurity.

Ernesto huffs out a sigh. His fingers stroke, carefully, gently down Héctor’s face as he works to remove his own shirt. Pressing himself closer after a short while. Another embrace, maybe the closeness would help more. In this position their ribcages practically interlock with one another. He can feel the constriction and expansion of his ribcage against his own.

It draws a rumble from him, an odd sound even as Héctor’s breath hitches. Héctor’s hands come up, pressing against his shoulders, almost pushing and again he can see that fear and panic. The looks that Héctor sends the door.

“Par-parar!” Héctor pleas with him. Eyes so desperately looking into his own. That fear and anxiety so clear. All he wants to do is help Héctor forget it, forget about it all for a moment. So he sighs, shaking his head and letting his hands work their magic.

It can't be too different than when alive can it?

So he explores. Untestedly exploring the bones bared before him. Héctor’s panic falls back, momentarily dipping away into confusion. He watches as that drops away and Héctor gasps. Ribcage shuddering under Ernesto's touch. His fingers dip and explore counting the ribs as he tracks Héctor’s faint squirming and each small gasp and whine.

He can feel himself getting eager for _more_. Feel it as Héctor's hands remain on his shoulders not sure whether to grasp or splay there. He groans either way. Hands touching where they can, each rib, rising back up to Héctor's clavicles and gently rolling over them with his palms.

It draws a whining groan from the younger man. Almost a sigh.

“That's it Héctor” he grins even as Héctor gazes up at him. Héctor’s eyes are half dazed, overwhelmed, but still there is that _fear and wariness._  He frowns, frowns even as Héctor squirms again, hands pushing, voice strained.

“Er-Ernesto please-- N-o” Héctor’s words crack. That fear still so present as Héctor again pushes. Now refusing him. But he's not deterred. Hands gently catching Héctor’s and pulling them away to ignored whimpers as he oh so gently kisses them. Another reassuring smile.

Maybe he needs to go further?

“If you're scared someone will hear, don't be”

“No, I want--” he cuts Héctor off, claiming his lips once more. The faintest nibble of those now boney lips and he already misses having a tongue as Héctor _gasps_ into the kiss. Still the action is enough of the distraction he aims for it to be.

His free hands -having released Héctor’s to their immediate return to his shoulders- were fumbling around at his _and Héctor’s_ pants. Working to get them off. There's another shudder that goes through Héctor as he manages to unclip the young man's belt. Grunting into the kiss as he momentarily draws back.

Héctor shivers again, whimpering and as he struggles to push down those loose pants.

“Why are you making this so hard Héctor?” He grumbles, not intending to sound so mean but-- did Héctor really have to cross his legs now? His own pants fall halfway off, bunching around his ankles and he sighs. “I am merely trying to help, to _take care of you,_ ” both his hands now move to--

“No! Ernesto plea-” he snaps his head up, and Héctor stops midword. Mouth partially open and eyes wide. Ribcage heaving under his disappointed gaze. A shaky breath, but Héctor still refuses his gentle attempt at persuading him to open his legs back up. Hands even moving to try and block him further.

He lets out the smallest growl, at the very edge of his patience. Once more there is a cut off yelp. This time more pronounced as he fully folds them over. Héctor lying flat on his back on the couch beneath them. The automatic flailing of Héctor's legs at the action’s taken full advantage of to rid him of his pesky pants, even as Ernesto kicks off his own.

Between them now is nothing but bare bones as he straddles the younger man. Wide eyes stare up at him, a tremble so clear in those bones and the faintest quiver to Héctor’s lips and eyes.

It's so tempting to dive down for another kiss. To just get it started the good old fashioned way as Héctor stares, eyes surely filled with anticipation behind that fear. Especially when he can see them track down. Taking in his own bones.

He basks for a moment in that. There is nothing between them. Nothing left of their clothing, it's all scattered on the floor and more importantly. _They're alone._ Nobody will interrupt.

That's why instead of continuing the way he normally would he decides to see if he could still remember the old tricks. Times long, long ago.

Exploration and learning and--

This is the same. He snakes his hands down, relishing in Héctor’s hitched breaths and gasps as he plays over those exposed bones. He slides back until he is more between Héctor’s bare legs.

Observing those bones. Thinner than his own, faintly smaller and a hell a lot duller. With just the faintest dusting of cream as well. But that hardly matters when he expertly keeps Héctor’s legs apart and gently runs his hands up and down Héctor’s femurs. Héctor again whimpers, bones jolting under his ministrations. Legs twitching and jerking, hands again coming back. Grasping his own in plea.

He sighs, but ignores it. He is after all forgiving of Héctor's fear and nervousness. Only worrying about the hands curled over his own to lift them up. Very purposefully he shifts. Meeting Héctor’s wide, somewhat glistening eyes with his own. He presses his lips to the femur closest, the right one. Héctor stills, freezing as he repeats the action, creeping towards his pelvis.

“D-don't!” Héctor's yelp is ignored. The hands that frantically move to his skull, not so much. Again he sighs.

“Héctor! There is really no need to make this so difficult!” the younger freezes, shivering as he moves. Pushing himself up, pressing Héctor’s legs down, holding them separate with unnecessary strength and force really. He has to make this point though as he pushes forwards. Héctor letting out small nonsense sentences trying to stop him.

But he refuses to be deterred even as Héctor pushes at him. It hardly hinders him. Instead he snakes a hand forwards. Catching Héctor’s wrists and dragging the younger man forwards. Awkwardly dragging him into a kiss.

The kiss is a demand for compliance. Devouring as he presses himself into Héctor. _It's been so long_ , has Héctor truly forgotten what they once both shared and strode so determinedly for? The trembling bones against him say he hasn't. He can feel how they call out, craving more of his touch even as Héctor continues to squirm, struggling in his nervousness.

He holds them there until Héctor finally stills. Drawing back just to let the younger pant for a moment. Now hopefully Héctor wouldn't object as much. His hands release Héctor’s, quickly creeping back down. Dipping towards Héctor’s pelvis. Which he simply tickles for a moment to shudders from the younger.

Still it's hardly interesting enough to just dip and explore. Hands carefully mapping out Héctor’s pelvis, one keeping his hands from causing too much obstruction the other tracing each ridge and dip. Patting and poking, relishing in those tremmors and the increased squirming as surely he stirs up Héctor’s own excitement.

Tickling down the iliac crest, lower over the sacrum and down to his coccyx. Dipping into all the tiny holes on the way down before folding over that tiny jutting tailbone to a sharp gasp.

“Er-Ernesto please! You don't have--”

“Does this feel good Querido?” He cuts Héctor’s shuddery words off by moving his hand up and down on that bone. Taking in the jerks and jolts of Héctor's legs. His hands that come to rest and tug his hair instead. The hand not occupied with Héctor’s pelvis creeps up. Tapping up his spine choking off whatever response the younger had been about to make.

Choking it into a moan. A sound that just sings into the air and jolts straight through him. Whatever he is doing, _he's doing it right_. Héctor curses somewhere in the sea of sounds he makes, hands twisting and pulling at his hair. Surely messing it up but Ernesto hardly cares.

This is how and where they are meant to be. His fingers play Héctor like a fine tuned instrument and dance over his bones. Up and down, he plays with Héctor’s coccyx, delighting in the way Héctor shifts as he does so. His other hand just creeps higher up Héctor’s spine in the meantime. Almost to the point where it's up under Héctor’s ribcage, before he creeps it back down.

He repeats each motion to more groans and squirming from Héctor, feeling his own bones heat up, bubbling in excitement and anticipation at how he plays the younger man as easily as when they were niños just exploring such things.

“Ayy Héctor!” He breaths the words, sharply yanking with his hands to yet more sounds. “Sing louder mí amor!” He speeds up, faintly rocking yet not rutting against Héctor yet. He has to take care of the younger first.

He leans forwards. Hands barely faltering as his skull lowers to Héctor's ribs. The younger man's hands still tight in his hair barely bother him. He focuses. Kissing those thin bones relishing as Héctor grows louder, legs moving and. He looms himself over Héctor.

“Héctor! Héctor!” He pants his name even as Héctor cries, screams for release. The bones beneath his hands, his breath on Héctor’s ribs as they jolt and a flash of something covers them, lighting up his markings like a beacon before he falls back against the couch tiredly blinking in the afterglow.

He feels Héctor’s arms drop and just basks in the view for a moment. Pulling his hands back and resting on his haunches. Héctor looks-- dazed, overwhelmed and just ever so tired from the excitement. The fear of discovery, yet they're not done.

Not yet.

He leans himself over. Again going for a kiss. Cradelling one hand around and pressing into the kiss. His other pressing down on the couch below to balance as he aligns their bodies. For the moment Héctor is too caught in the afterglow to react. Only huffing as he pulls back and softly smiles.

Héctor has been pleasured. _Now it's his turn_.

He presses himself down. Meeting his ribcage with Héctor's, groaning at the sensation of his ribs interlocking. Folding into the gaps like pieces of a puzzle. Below him Héctor squirms. A twisted almost pained seeming look on his skull. Weakly he feels Héctor’s arms come around. Curling and folding and--

He groans, deep and low as Héctor's movements cause their pelvises to fully meet.

“That's it!” He breathes into Héctor’s mouth as he presses for another kiss. Letting out another groan as the movement repeats. Héctor’s eyes show nothing but confused bewilderment, still shades with that tired afterglow. Yet he can't care as he matches the next one with a slight shift of his own hips.

“Wha--” Héctor's confused objection is cut off by a new moan as Ernesto rolls his hips. He groans at the sound, such a beautiful, familiar sound. Another kiss, another couple thrusts met with moans, but this _isn't enough._ Not yet anyway. He needs more to get that energy going.

The arms wrapped around him, weakly tighten as he shifts. Moving to pull Héctor closer, pressing himself down. Rutting bone against bone and trying to raise Héctor up ever so faintly from the couch. Press him so he's better aligned. He feels Héctor squirm again, energy slowly renewing and groans.

The more Héctor moves and shifts the more their bones knock and rub and just. He groans again, rocking, pelvis rutting _perfectly_ with Héctor's drawing a scream from the younger. Fingers dig and scrape where Héctor clutches at his back. Surely leaving marks on his scapulas. He'll carry them with pride as he thrusts. Slowly increasing speed and feeling Héctor shift.

So much stimulation and movement. The younger man's head comes up and he groans again. Sound low almost possessive as he feels Héctor muffle himself, biting down on Ernesto's left clavicle and digging in. Surely that would mar the bone as well.

Marks he'll wear with pride as Héctor gives in. The energy rises, pants, groans and moaning screams between them. The majority of the sounds from Héctor.

“Dios! I missed this!” He groans. “Missed you! Ayy” he thrusts harder, pressing further as the energy boils and coils in his bones. Héctor jolting and and shifting against him. Pressed practically flush and yet.

It's hardly fair that Héctor has marked him and he hasn't yet done the same. Without letting up for a moment one hand snaps to Héctor's hair, tugging it and Héctor’s head back to another cry. Exposing the delicate bones of his neck.

“N-n-- Sto--” he is rewarded with the loudest choked cry of ecstasy thus far when his teeth find purchase there. It only drives him further. A couple more bites and the fiery lick of pleasure and possession is enough to jolt in his own white bones. Erupting and exploding out until he collapses over Héctor.

Héctor who makes a single sound at his body draping as such, something almost a sob before he hums. Absently curling his arms and moving then.

Now lying sideways framing Héctor against the back of the couch and just--

“Just like old times, ay querido?” Ernesto murmurs almost dazed brushing away stray hairs from Héctor’s face. The faint tremors make him draw him closer. Pressing a reassuring kiss to his forehead. “Lo prometo! I'll take good care of you! Just like today!” He breaths and Héctor makes a funny sound as he reluctantly releases the younger and retrieves all their clothing.

They dress rather lackadaisically, and once they're both fully outfitted he grabs Héctor before he can react. Holding him close and secure before calling the officer to escort them both home. If Héctor trembles faintly in his grasp, well that's surely only because he's tired.

It has been such an eventful reunion after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha don't mind me bloody coming in late suddenly realising I checked the _wrong_ box. But anyway since this is supposed to be a _**Collection**_ of oneshots well...
> 
> But hey I figured it out!


	2. Surprise Delivery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warnings:** Rape, kidnapping/abduction, creepy dirty talking, non-consensual touching, group, overstimulation, forced blowjob, forced penetration, skelesex, semi-possessive behaviour, "sharing"

“Special delivery!”

He hits the ground hard. Bones clattering and rattling, creating such a racket including a couple of stray swears as he's unceremoniously upended once again. Emptied out of the sack this time rather than scooped up in it.

He only barely has the chance to register shoes as he feels himself hoisted up between two people, the useless promise already spilling from his lips even if he doesn't yet know who--

“Por favor! I'll get it right back! Lo prome--” he's cut off by a very familiar amused chuckle. A familiar sound that rings in his stapes and sinks into his ribcage.

He looks up, awkwardly still held, as if like a prize or something between his kidnappers. Standing there in front of where he's still kneeling is a familiar shining white boned figure. He swallows, feeling abruptly that much more grotty and dusty.

“Er-Ernesto!” He stammers on his old friend’s name. Even as one of the two who dragged him here natters on about something irrelevant.

Why's he been brought here? He feels them release him and scrambles to his feet. Looking awkwardly around. The room seems almost impossibly big, and empty. Aside them there isn't much just carpet and-- well a few pieces of furniture, chairs mostly.

He feels the need to swallow as Ernesto steps forwards. A smile almost too guarded on his skull as he takes in Héctor's state. As if he didn't already feel grubby and disappointing enough.

“Gracias Señorita, Señor!” He blinks as Ernesto nods to the two who had dragged him, kidnapped him here. “You both require a reward?” They nod and Héctor feels himself shift uncomfortably. What's going on here? Reward for what? Is this some--

He jolts as Ernesto is suddenly right beside him. A firm hand on his shoulder and a beaming grin on his face. A too big beaming grin really.

“So! I say, why don't you _see_ just what I adore about him?” Ernesto's words ring out and there's a period of heavy silence. Nobody quite sure what the man means until something seems to click. Héctor curls his arms closer, giving his friend a sideways narrow look before Ernesto is pushing him forwards. “Go on Héctor! Serve them for me!”

He swallows down curses. Awkwardly stumbling forwards feeling judged and far too much like a mouse in the gaze of cats under the eyes of those in this room.

Still if this is all he's apparently been kidnapped for.

“O-of course, Ernesto!” He stumbles plastering on a smile before frowning. “Uh… what am I serving them?”

“Why, isn't that obvious Héctor?” There's a strange tone in Ernesto's voice that immediately has him shifting, unease creeping up his spine as the strange man steps forward, closer to him. He looks between his kidnappers, not daring to look back at Ernesto as something itches at the back of his mind. Surely he can't mean-- “Now why don't you two _see_ why I so adore him”

 _What?!_ He eyes Ernesto again. What does that even-- Suddenly the male of his two kidnappers is too close. Far too close and--

“He-hey! Don't!” He jerks himself away from the strange man's grasping hands. Shaking his head and raising his arms somewhat defensively. “Don't--” he whimpers as the lady steps up, something in her eyes as well.

“Come on Muchacho, we're just--”

“No!” He snaps, backing up again-- or at least attempting to. “Wha- Ernesto! Hey! Let me go!” He struggles in the grasp of his former friend, eyes wide as the stranger steps closer. A small whine makes its way out of his throat as the stranger’s hands reach for and touch him unwanted.

A shudder goes through him as the man's hands ghost over his bones where they are exposed by his open jacket. Ernesto keeping him still, keeping him practically--

No, he grits his teeth and squirms. Mind screaming that he has to do something. He can't just let his friend- _former friend_ -hold him down while someone else was given free reign to _molest_ him.

Before he can think he lashes out with one leg. A desperate kick, no real thought put into it at the man. It offbalences him. Almost toppling him back further against Ernesto really, but-- it stops the man with a high pitched cry of pain and a rather _satisfying_ crunch sound under his boot. Even if his own leg hurts a bit. _Stupid brittle bones._

Pity it's such a short reprieve as the señorita glares and he has the barest moment to yep as Ernesto pulls him back, arms wrapping around tighter to secure him. “Forgot about that stubborn streak of yours…”

 _No, no._ He whines as the man stumbles back up, gritting his teeth and glaring at him.

He glares right back, _loathing_ the position he finds himself in. Why is this happening? Did Ernesto really have him kidnapped for _this?_

“Try again now!”

The man's hands return and he can't even squirm away from them with how Ernesto hold him. Can only feel himself shudder, feel it as the man is free to explore his ribs and taps the delicate bones there as if he were a xylophone.

He can't stand the jolts and shudders that sends through his bones as the man explores his bones. It's not even like the man seems to take much enjoyment from acting instead almost as if molesting him were a chore. Exploring his bones but with dark shadowed eyes that take no pleasure in his position helpless to stop him.

He's not sure if that makes it better or worse.

“I think you should press harder,” he squirms, feeling Ernesto's hands shift in the same moment as the man’s. Fingers faintly pulling back his jacket, pushing down his sleeves. “You'll get more of a reaction if he can _feel_ it. And ay! The _sounds_ he'll reward you with!”

 _Encouragement_ as if the man weren't already going to be pushing for more. He squirms, uselessly against Ernesto's hold as the man's hands move down, _copying Ernesto,_ pushing away the cloth from his ribcage and exposing him more.

“N-- Stop!!” He feels Ernesto loosen his grip just enough that his jacket can be fully removed. “Let go of me!” He jerks as the man taps on his ribs again. The sensation of those phalanges dipping into where he really doesn't want them to causing him to squirm desperately.

_It does nothing._

Nothing at all as those hands creep lower. Lower, creeping down before slipping back up and he shivers. Closing his eyes and _whining_ in his distress.

“Aren't the sounds he makes so _beautiful_ mí amor?” The señorita’s voice cuts across like a blast of cold water as the man grunts and he can feel Ernesto shift faintly holding him. “Oh please! Make him do that again!”

“Ay, I always used to _love_ this” Ernesto's voice rocks him. Sending a shudder through him in conjunction with the hands pressing and exploring and-- “Héctor has _always_ had such good sounds and reactions!”

He wants to slap Ernesto. Or kick him at that so smug tone and the slightest of-- a gasp, another shudder that goes through him as the man does _something_ with his fingers in his ribcage. A new sound, faint and almost choked breaks from him and he can _feel_ the heat to his markings as he registers it.

 _“Mierda!”_ The man's exclamation makes him faintly wince, but worse is how that sound seems to have spurred actual interest. Again the motion in his ribcage repeats and another choked sound escapes him.

There's a funny sound from the señorita where she is as he squirms.

“ _Ay_ , this is what I _missed._ ” Ernesto’s hands shift, the man’s stilling within his ribcage for a moment as Héctor again tries in vain to do _anything_ to-- “why don't you try his spine, Héctor is _quite_ sensitive. _Spine, ribs,_ I wonder if he still--”

He snaps his eyes open again, faintly glaring up at Ernesto as those hands move. Only before he can snap something, a grumble or demand he stops--

What a--” he cuts off with a sharp gasp, body jerking as the man follows Ernesto's direction. Hands now advancing with more curiosity and intensity. And now they drift down. Stroking over his vertebrae with a faint hum from the man.

Creeping down, tracing slowly towards--

“Hell no! You are not going to--”

“Be a good boy now Héctor!” His objection chokes off as Ernesto _hoists_ him up really. His legs now free, barely do more than flail practically useless as hands go to the rope that serves as his current belt. “I had forgotten…”

The older músico’s muttering is forgotten as he jerks and twists. Movements somewhat manic, all useless with Ernesto’s arms wrapped around and keeping him trapped. Merely jerking against the broader man's body.

“Let. Go!” _No, no, no no!_ He desperately shakes his head whining. The hands tug and pull, and he can hear the man straining.

“Let me do it, mí amor!” For a brief moment his legs are free. For a second he has the ability to try and stabilise himself and-- “Ooh! I can see why he likes you!” He hisses at the faint touch on his ribs, the deft fingers that pull and tease. Easing the rope loose and off. Letting his pants _fall._ “All done mí amor!”

He glares defiantly at the señorita as she steps back, eyes glinting and taking in the view of him there. The strange man beside her and--

“You really should have seen him when we were alive” he shudders, feeling Ernesto pull him back once more. Bones practically flush against the celebrity as the other two stare. Taking in all of-- he lets out a sharp gasp. Ernesto's hands shift. “Sunkissed skin, that taut belly and muscles. Not to mention well--” he shivers, the hands and the words.

The other two stepping back up and--

“P-please. I-isn’t this--” his voice dies an undignified yelp as a hand _plunges into his pelvic bowl_. Fingers that swirl and poke, the hands on his ribcage and-- wait, wait, wait! There are more than two sets. “P-parar!”

But his cry goes unheaded as they poke and prod. Too many points of contact for him to really focus on.

“He has such pretty bones! And pressed up against you Señor…”

“Makes you jealous, mí sol?” He grits his teeth at their talk. As if he weren't-- he shivers as those dainty señorita hands slip up into his ribcage and the man's down. Ernesto's bones pressing flat against is back _not helping_.

“Jealous Señor? Well I don't blame you. Héctor _is_ quite the beautiful man.” He grits his teeth feeling Ernesto shift faintly. “Thin delicate bones, those slightly thin shoulders, his hips. Have you seen his expressions yet?” Héctor gets the distinct feeling that's not quite--

He jerks, feeling those touches move. Ribs pelvis. Ernesto continues to talk avout him. Directing and speaking and--

 _Why?_ Why was he kidnapped for _this?_

He gasps, feeling himself shoved and pushed down. Hitting the ground he barely gets a moment to register who’s moving before the strange man is on top of him keeping him down. He can hear Ernesto's steps retreat, see those fancy shoes go over to a chair and--

The man, his kidnapper keeps him down with hands on his shoulders.

“Oh yes! I can _definitely_ see why he likes you!” He blinks up at the señorita, only distantly registering that at some point she's also lost her clothing. In fact-- “Oh isn't this _exciting_ mí amor? We're going to fuck him, _together!”_

_What?!_

A new thrill of alarm shoots through him. And he flails. Trying to push himself up off the ground against the hands holding him down.

“Sí, sí mí sol!” The man’s voice is too close. Ringing far too loudly in his stapes. His eyes wide dart everywhere. Seeking desperately for an escape. Eventually landing on Ernesto who has moved not that far away to a chair he's casually leaning on watching resting backwards on it. “But I still think--”

“Oh hush you!” She cuts across as he gazes pleading, _desperate_ , towards Ernesto surely this has gone on. “You are still wearing it beneath those pants of yours right mí amor?”

“Wh-what are you--”

“Of course!” The man affirms and he doesn't need to look at either of them to get his answer.

“I-I’m not--” he shudders as the man shifts. Moving slightly as the lady comes around. Both of them staring with _hunger, desire,_ predatory gazes. Again desperate his eyes cast about landing on Ernesto. “No! Ernesto por favor!” He screams, _shrieks really,_ that's enough! That's _enough._ “Por favor…” he whimpers, feeling the two strangers press forwards with _whatever_ is going on. And Ernesto he--

 _He just watches_. Eyes eerily focused, practically _leering_ as Héctor again finds himself hoisted between the two. Hands touching and poking. Pressing unwanted and sending jolts and jerks through him.

He whimpers again, a burning in his eyes as Ernesto _leaves him_. Watching and--

“Don't be gentle now, he will struggle as you've seen. It's half the fun. Why don't you try rubbing his neck? Tug his hair maybe, and I've heard that new _nickname_ of yours Héctor”

“No! You--” he cuts off with a gasp as the señorita presses herself down. Hands on his ribs, and the sensation of--

“Chorizo… I do wonder how you managed to get that. Suiting...” Ernesto's words fade into static as his two kidnappers move following Ernesto's suggestions. Hands moving and touching, curling and twisting.

It stops him from objecting with any spoken statements. Only sounds, as he jerks and struggles. Writhing in a mess of the sensations and sheer desperation to just _throw them off._

“Chorizo huh?” _No, no--_ with a desperate jerk of his whole body he twists. Trying to shake them off.

Only to have his skull forcefully grabbed and _something_ jammed into his mouth before he can make any demands. Instincts _scream_ , alarm, panic. He chokes around the object as hands continue to run up and down, _all over_.

Unwanted, unneeded and he chokes. Sounds, cries, protests all lost as he's _rocked_ like that. He has no idea who is where and can only barely hear them speaking, getting more excited as his struggling all but dies as he focuses on--

“But how could I leave you two to have _all the fun?”_ Ernesto?

He _howls_ around the object jabbing deep into his mouth. Feeling a new intrusion. How many hands are there? How many--

His vision blurs, and his body shakes. He doesn't know what's even happening anymore. Someone's touching his ribs, there are hands in his hair and-- _kisses?_ His body is rocked and touched and people are talking.

But he can barely register one thing from another as someone is below him, holding him, pushing him. Something _presses_ in his pelvis on his sacrum, something else pokes and jabs at what serves as the remains of his throat. His _whole body rocks and shakes and--_

He can only focus on breathing, the sensation too much. Too big and-- he cries and screams. Feeling like none of it is heard. All too muffled and blocked and--

All at once the sensations peak! Howling and blasting through him. Leaving his bones rattling and aching. But still his body is pushed, rocked between whoever is there until they all collapse and he finds himself dazed, overwhelmed and with tears burning at the edge of his sockets in the center of  a four skeleton pile up.

He barely registers when Ernesto pulls him up. Cradling him close as he waves away the other two, _his kidnappers_.

“C-can I g-go home now?” His voice wavers. Barely more than a whimper really. _Everything aches._  He's exhausted, confused and just--

“Oh Héctor” he shivers, straining to get his vision to just focus. A hand brushes back his hair. “You are home now, querido.”

And he feels like his breathing stops.


	3. Little Rabbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warnings:** Attempted rape, possessive behaviour, disproportionate rescue, violence, pet names, pet play, dubcon, abduction, protective instinct, alebrijes

He doesn't know why he's here. Well, that's not entirely true, he _knows,_ in the way that he knows he's dead. But here specifically, and without his little mouse. He doesn't know why he's _here._

So almost aimlessly he just wanders around. Watching as people avoid him, his height, all 215cm of it doing him no favours here. Not that he cares for any of them, useless nobodies, rabble and riff-raff none of them his _mouse._ He could care less about sending them all running just at the mere sight of him. They're unimportant.

Where is he?

His little mouse would love this place. All the tall winding buildings, the curved streets and the skeleton decor. Why even the road, jumbled up bones and small--

He stops. Half turning as he hears something. After a short period, a few painful breaths of nothing. He turns back to the path, ready to-- _there it is again._ Distant, almost indistinct, and hastily muffled and cut off. A cry of pain, fear and something else he can't quite name.

It's-- it’s not quite the same as his little mouse’s cries, but the tone is similar enough.

He turns, practically flying as he moves back through those streets. Sharply whistling for his _alebrijes,_ all eight of them. Six rather severe and vicious ones, looking like disproportionate, stretched and twisted foxes, with spines and too many teeth, tails that lashed and whipped in the air as they helped him to track the sound and-- the other two. Small, fluffy, puffballs. Yokie, Chihuahua and pomeranian mixes, with poofy ridiculous wings.

But he doesn't care how out of place they look in that moment. Not when on a mission. Hearing that faint cry, now muffled, with the edge of a _sob._ He whirls around the next corner.

Stopping for a moment and just taking in the image in front of him.

Pinned, pressed against the wall, hands over his head, tears shining in those wide eyes, a hand muffling him and keeping him there is a thin, lanky, beanpole of a skeleton. Messy hair streaked, disturbing the view of his markings more than the scrubby stranger trapping him. Eyes that shine, plead so desperately, and those thin, delicate, fragile seeming bones.

Yet that's not what stills him. No, it's his figure. That beanpole frame, small shoulders, a twig of a figure, mostly legs and arms, all limbs and length and--

_Little mouse, little mouse, Arthur._

Even the measy streaked hair, the panicked sound and--

He sees red.

“Nive! Cabal! Marrok! _Impetus!”_ His voice drops. A snarl, a growl, the words reverberating in the air. It demands attention.

The scruffy creep in front of him barely gets the chance to look up, finally registering his audience, before the three snarling, snapping alebrijes called dive in. Howls like something out of hell following them down. The man screeches, and he hardly cares as his alebrijes rip and tear, jerking him around like some chew toy.

Satisfied that the scruffy man is suitably detained he strides over to the lanky figure who's slumped down against the wall. Faintly letting out a whimper wide eyes staring, unseeingly towards--

Oh!

He can still see himself reflected up, in the skeleton’s wide eyes. An imposing, looming figure, cast as a twisted reflection on brown. Eyes streaked and shaded, blown wide with those tinges of red and magenta, nothing like his little mouse’s own sunshine golden glow amber. Yet the two gazes are mirrored in their fear, in the way they reflect _him._ Mirrored in their wideness, the way that they beg for him to look deep, staring at the heart of the one behind that gaze.

Those eyes could make him do anything just to see them crinkle, or smile, a touch of mischief and the sing-song of secrets. They're just the same kind of expressive.

It makes something squeeze in his ribcage. A pain as the lanky stranger, who echoes of his little mouse, _flinches_ back and away from him.

“Fife! Mezzo!” He calls to attention his two fluffballs. Both of them flitting up to him with soft barks and-- he waves them back. “Comfort our new… _amigo”_ he directs, stepping back and letting the skeleton curl and cower. Watching as he slumps down further, fluffy hair falling across his face, almost as if to hide him--

For a moment, the two balls of fluff, his sweetest alebrijes pause there. Letting out small sounds before eagerly they dive down. Curling and cooing. Snuggling right up into the lanky man, who lets out a sharp gasp, a sound that folds into awkward giggles as Fife noses up under his chin and--

Again he stops. Watching as the man’s head tilts back, the tiniest scrap of a goatee on his chin. The light catching and casting over his bones. Faintly worn and mottled, with the clear wear and tear of neglect. Faintly warped, so fragile, breakable looking, as if even just a faint breeze might snap one of those thin bones clean in two. Possibly already has, he can see a missing rib, a split rib, the cracked tibia badly patched up and similar wrappings around the ulna. Even the markings on him, faded and chipped with the colour flaking away.

Everything about him is fragile. As if he may break himself trying to escape, possibly was. Like a little rabbit. Too strong for his own bones.

Still, he eases slightly as his two playful alebrijes, the fluff with wings play and entertain, coiling and curling. Tumbling around in the air or snuggling against him. Soothing and calming bringing back light to those eyes. A shine that catches and holds, until the lanky skeleton is playing along as well, the only sign he's still uncomfortable a faint tremble and the glances shot his way that he politely ignores.

He sharply whistles, calling off his other alebrijes, the rest of the six having at some point joined Cabal, Nive and Marrok in yanking the man apart and gnawing his bones to pieces. Leaving the man nothing more than a broken pile of splinters and a cracked skull as he strides over to observe and be _sure_ the man won't do this again.

Not to the little rabbit, or _anyone_ else.

He looms, waiting for the miserable groaning to stop and the pain-dazed gaze, blurry eyes to look up and _focus--_

“Hola, _Depredador,”_ his voice is level, almost casual as those eyes faintly clear, a bolt of terror “would it be remiss to assume what you were trying to do to the Conejito was to prey on him?” The man's expression doesn't change, still filled with pain and that fogged up fear. He lowers himself, voice hushed, a heady promise in the words, “Well, _Depredador…_ I have decided that this will be the last time _you_ prey on _anyone!”_

His expression sharpens, eyes glowing coals of magenta fire into those pain-glazed brown. His hellhound alebrijes coming, looming around him to an unspoken command. Sounds discordant, disrupted and sending chills down even his spine. A fanged, vicious grin curls and he straightens himself to full height once more. Looking down on that miserable pile of bones before stomping, crushing those closest to a miserable, broken sound, too rasped and broken to even scream anymore.

He repeats until even those sounds die, pattering off into nothing but faint wheezed breaths, whimpers, sounds that are only barely audible. As it is there is another whimper, or three, from just to the side. Where he left Fife and Mezzo to calm and soothe.

He turns. Enough to see the little rabbit, curled, pressing back towards the wall again. His own two sweet alebrijes, still with him, letting out small whines and coos. All three with wide eyes staring at him. He straightens, an easy smile sliding onto his face. He steps over the broken man, watching the little rabbit cuddle Mezzo closer as Fife rest on his head, between strands of that fluffy hair.

He hasn't run away, _good,_ it means he doesn't have to chase him.

“Hola, Conejito!”

“I-I-- Y-you--”

"¿Cómo te sientes?" He cuts the smaller man off, not needing any gratitude. Rather noting with concern how those fragile bones rub and rattle together. The way the little rabbit shakes almost as if he's about to fall apart, that gaze that darts everywhere but up at him. “Conejito, estás bien?” The little rabbit closes his eyes, squeezing them shut, arms tightening around Mezzo who lets out a squeak as the man jerkily nods his head.

Fife and Mezzo let out sounds as he steps closer, the man shrinking in on himself further. Curling almost into a ball. He frowns, faintly, is the little rabbit hurt somewhere else? Why else would he possibly be curling if not pain?

His hands stretch out towards the little rabbit who lets out a squeak, so reminiscent of his little mouse’s nervous ones. Still he gently pulls him out of his ball, shooing Fife and Mezzo away. His eyes carefully trace him over for any extra injuries he may have missed for the obvious ones. The little rabbit shakes in his hold the whole time until he nods satisfied.

“Well, you don't seem harmed beyond the obvious Conejito” he sighs, gently stroking a hand down the man's spine, patting his back gently. It always used to soothe his little mouse. But the little rabbit only seems to get more high strung. Shakes increasing and bones rattling together, surely that can't be good for _his_ little rabbit. “Calmarse, calmarse. I have you safe and secure Conejito!”

“...Héctor…” the voice is a breath as he curls the smaller man closer. Maybe a more secure hold would calm his little rabbit down. He hums. Looking down with a slightly tilted head at the shaking man. “M-my name, S-Señor! I-It's Hé-Héctor!” His little rabbit continues to tremble, eyes falteringly meeting his own. A breath “P-please st-stop calling m-me Conejito”

“Why?” He arches a browridge, gently lifting himself and his little rabbit up, to another _downright adorable_ squeak from the man. “You are small, you are fluffy, like a rabbit.” He pauses, Mezzo and Fife, the two puffballs coming back over with small worried sounds. His little rabbit trembling all the more as he frowns, eyes tracing those fragile, brittle bones once more. “What's more, you look like you could break yourself Conejito"

His reasoning doesn't seem to help, his little rabbit shaking his head. Eyes desperately wide, mouth opening and shutting, and those bones--

“Calmarse, por favor.” He sighs, “you could hurt yourself Conejito. Shaking so violently like this. I wonder are you cold Conejito? Is that the problem?” His little rabbit’s head shakes, eyes darting up, a small whine.

“N-no! I-I just--” he whistles again, calling his alebrijes attention and his little rabbit falls silent. Eyes wide, hands twisting faintly in the material of his deep purple suit as his alebrijes all gather around. Another faint whine, before his little rabbit falls still in his arms.

“Soy Lewis” he finally introduces himself. “And these are my alebrijes. I'll introduce them all properly later Conejito, when we're home.” He nods his head, starting to walk, ignoring the small, soft protests from his little rabbit. Instead he just curls him closer, adjusting his grip until he is sure the man is secure, even more, he’s sure he’s almost hidden from any prying eyes.

If there are anymore predators lurking around they won't be able to see his little rabbit. Not as he is now, maybe later, when he's all cleaned up. He wonders where his mansion is, humming faintly as his alebrijes circle them. Forming a protective circle and preventing even more curious gazes sent their way.

His little rabbit begins to shake again as they exit out into the street and he hums. He isn't his little mouse, but in his hold the man feels the same. Maybe he's only a bit shorter than his little mouse. He glances down at his little rabbit. The man’s ribcage rising and falling, a flutter beat. Rapid, again so reminiscent.

He is sure he still has some of his little mouse's old clothing. And if his little rabbit is only that slight bit shorter.

“I am sure they would fit. You can't be more than a few inches shorter…” he muses and his little rabbit’s eyes seem to grow even wider. “Sí, I'm certain they'll fit” he decides, nodding his head and ignoring his little rabbit’s whimper.

Now, just to get home. And show his little rabbit where he'll be staying. Where he'll be _safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This oneshot brought to you as a surprise burst of inspiration and a gift for my honorary cousin's birthday. So enjoy.


	4. Payment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warnings:** Coercion, coerced sex, dubcon, non-consensual touching, pet names, sex as payment, rationalization, semi-possessive behavior, abuse of authority

“Y-you wanted to see me Señor Casales?” He trembles as he enters the room. Bones faintly rattling as he tries to calm his nerves. The rent isn't technically due for another week or so, on the Friday. But still, been called into the owner’s office for any reason is terrifying.

“Ay Señor Rivera! Just the man I wanted to see!” The man looks up at where he stands. Uniform pressed and tidy, hair slicked back and with formal markings over his skull. “Would you mind taking a seat!” Swallowing, and jerkily nodding he moves around to settle on the rough plush chair across from the other man.

“S-Señor Casales, what's this all about? I-if it's my rent I can assure you--”

“Calmarse Héctor, can I call you Héctor?” He jerkily nods his head. “As I understand you're finding it difficult to gather the money for rent sí?”

“A-a little but, but Señor I--”

“You know, if you're really struggling that much. There are,” here the man pauses, and Héctor gets the distinct feeling that he's been carefully scrutinised under the man's gaze, fighting not to fidget. “Other ways to pay. I am sure that we could come to some sort of agreement on a method”

“O-oh, really?” Héctor looks up, something akin to hope in his voice. Since his unfortunate firing, he's been struggling to scrape together enough, but if there's an alternative. 

“Sí!” The man leans back in his chair and Héctor feels a smile cross his face. “Now then, as for the means to pay…”

“Say no more Señor!” He stands up, sure he already knows where this is going. After all every hotel, even a seedy one(maybe especially), requires a Janitor. He'll just have to--

“Ahh Héctor, where are you going?” Señor Casales sounds rather bemused even as Héctor stops. Just barely in front of the door, frowning he looks back at the man.

“T-to get the janitor’s supplies?” It comes out more of a question. “Th-that is how I'm paying, right?” Abruptly he's not so sure as the man stares at him, before letting out a low laugh and shaking his head.

More than a bit lost, Héctor trails his way back to his seat. Resting himself back down and idly fiddling with one sleeve. Waiting.

“You genuinely _are_ that oblivious aren't you.”

“Qué?” He snaps his head up, the statement stirring the realization and he swallows again. The room feeling just that bit smaller now. “L-look Señor, I-I'm sure you've heard the rumors but--” Héctor scrambles up, hands twisting and a rushing in his skull.

“Sí rumours. Quite interesting ones as well” Héctor shakes his head, scrambling further back as Señor Casales stands from his chair and comes around to stand closer to him. “Rumors that in order to pay your full rent you've been...” 

“N-no Señor, that's not-- I mean--”

“What you ashamed of it?” He shakes as the man laughs, cringing really. Legs scrambling him backwards as he searches for the words to explain, _they were just rumours_ , exaggerated really. “Now come on Héctor, it's just another way for you to pay for your rent. If you're having trouble”

He shakes his head, backing up until his hand finds the office doorknob. No, he isn't going to-- it won't open. He turns frantically and twists the knob again nothing. He almost whimpers as Casales just watches him.

His spine prickles with the man's gaze and he shivers releasing the knob and turning back around. Nervous laughter bubbles up and he clasps above his left wrist and stares wide eyed at the broader man.

“Come on now Héctor.”

“No!” He snaps, shaking his head furiously. “I cannot, I will not!”

“Oh?” 

“Those-- they're just _rumors_ Señor Casales!” He cringes as the man continues to gaze at him. Eyes shadowed and considering. “I-I haven't been-- it was a misunderstanding you see”

“Of course” he barely has a moment to feel himself relax at the man's seeming acceptance of his explanation before he's yelping. Dragged forwards, feet scrambling as he's pushed back into the chair he'd earlier vacated and found himself held down on it by the stronger man. “Do you take me for a fool Rivera?”

“N-no!”

“Well then, let me tell you _Señor_ , that I know rumours don't just _spring up_. So let's come to an agreement on your payment!”

He shivers as the man's hands slowly release their grip on his wrists, the man backing up ever so faintly. Giving him just enough--

“Hey!” He yelps as his shirt is pulled, tugged away and frantic, pushes the man away from him. It has no real effect and he whines, eyes wide as the older man, the manager and owner of the hotel strips him of his shirt. “P-please Señor! This isn't--”

“Quiet!” He presses himself back into the chair shaking as the man eyes over his exposed bones. Gaze lingering. “I called you here _specifically_ with those rumours in mind. You're not going to turn me down now are you?” The manager’s eyes meet his own.

His mouth opens, but the words falter as the man stretches out a hand to fondle his ribs. Catching him off guard and causing his breath to hitch.

“Quite sensitive aren't you?” The man muses and he closes his eyes, trembling “just think Héctor, this is your rent _paid_. No need to give up what little you've scrounged together”

“P-por favor S-señor…” he whimpers, shaking his head.

But the manager simply ignores his whimpers, ignores his plea. The hand fondling his ribs continues and he shudders, cringing as it creeps upwards. Tracing his collarbone to his neck.

He sharply inhales, the manager’s fingers tracing over the divets there in the bone. Uncomfortably they draw his attention back to the one thing he _dreads_ to remember. 

The damn mark that started those rumours in the first place. Well it and-- he shudders, feeling the man’s hand curl, covering the mark over.

“What honor…” the man looming over him breathes, making him shudder again. “To receive such attention, a mark--” 

“No!” He gasps the word, eyes snapping back open. Hand moving to curl around the manager’s wrist. “I-I”

“No?” The man’s voice is sharp causing him to wince. But he refuses to falter.

“N-no! It wasn't an honor. I-I didn't want it. He--”

“Does that matter?” The words cut through his statement. Sending a blaze of anger and a chill of fear through him practically simultaneously. His hand drops, and he moves to push himself up from the armchair, to-- the manager barely seems to spare a second thought for pushing him back down. “The fact that you received such attention at all, and from the _great Señor De la Cruz_ himself. That is an honor!”

“But I didn't want it!” He speaks, knowing that the words fall on deaf stapes as the man’s fingers again brush over the divets of the bite. His eyes squeeze themselves shut and he shifts his legs, contemplating if kicking the manager would in any way help him escape.

“Now behave! Remember _Héctor_. This is an easy way out of your rent!” The manager’s words aren't quite a snarl as he feels the man press weight down. Pinning him to the chair. “If you just submit now, it will save you a lot of trouble later”

“I-I can’t” he plaintively whines, feeling the man's hands creep back down over his ribs. Shaking his head, “I-I… _won’t”_ but his struggles falter. If only for a moment as a dark whisper creeps into the back of his skull.

_If he does it just this once…_

“Good boy!” The manager's voice cuts across and he cringes at the words. Cringes at the continued presence of the manager's hands on him. Cringes.

But he submits, swallowing back his denials and feeling the creeping heat of shame. But, he needs a place to stay, and the thought of slinking back down to Shantytown, to the cold and the falling apart buildings that can't even keep out rain half the time. 

To people who'd see the bite and more express worry than curiosity, or scold him for-- he swallows it back.

“Oh do try to relax, why don't you? This could be so much nicer for both of us!” He cringes, feeling the manager finish exploring his ribs, hands moving to. He crosses his legs. A moment of boldness as he takes a breath to assure himself.

“H-How do I know y-you won't go back on your word Señor?” He asks, but he already knows what the manager, what Señor Casales will say. But still, he has blocked access to his pelvis, to the zipper of his pants until he gets that assurance. 

“And when have I ever given you reason to doubt? Have I ever stiffed you?” The manager's voice is a drawl, something that creeps and prickles in his bones. “Have I ever abruptly changed your rent Héctor, or taken your money yet still kicked you out?”

“N-no…” he breathes. Feeling for all the world at a crossroads. His hands move, folding protectively over his pelvis, across the zip of his pants. Almost dully, the mark on his neck, _Ernesto's bite_ , seems to throb. A horrible reminder of how he ended up in this mess.

And why he slowly spreads his legs. Not able to meet the manager's surely leering gaze. 

“Gracias!” The word makes something akin to an echo of bile rise in the back of Héctor's throat. And he can only reassure himself that this will be the _only time_ he lets this happen as the man swiftly unzips his zipper.

Standing up and tugging his pants off. Eyes greedily taking in his bones as they're revealed. Héctor cringes, fighting against the instinct to scream, curl up and away as the man clambers up onto the plush to join him once done.

The manager practically frames him, trapping him in his seated naked position facing the broader man. _Worse_ he can feel the chair _rock_ , as if about to fall. 

He can't help but flail, a brief moment of panic taking over. “C-Casales! The _chair!_ ” He cries, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels himself falling. Moving backwards a stranger --for all the man owns the building, they have hardly interacted-- pressing him down firm, as he's lying practically--

His eyes blink back open in shock as Casales lets out a low sound of amusement. The chair it's--

“Still scared Capriccio?” 

He shudders, feeling the return of hands. Meandering as they make their way over his ribcage again. The touch  _anything but welcome_. He fights the urge to slap the man away, it's a month’s rent, just _another month_. “O-of course not!” He snaps breaths shuddering in his ribs.

Disbelief is clear in Casales eyes, but the man doesn't call him on it and Héctor has to be grateful for that. Biting at his lip as the manager moves painstakingly slowly over his ribs. The touch maddening and unnerving.

And yet, it makes his mind drift. Casting for the last time he ever received such contact. Ernesto's attempted assault notwithstanding. _It's been years_ , not since he died has he dared to do anything.

Not even privately.

Not that he has really had the chance to-- his breath hitches, the manager's fingers dipping in the gaps between his ribs and tickling there. Causing words to be lost as he trembles under the unfamiliar sensation.

“I do wonder…” Casales words are so distant as he faintly squirms, feeling those purposeful tickles that shake him, sending a mess of mixing emotions through him. “Just your reactions. Was it something you thought of, something you entertained?” His breath rushes out, an odd choked gurgle as he registers the manager's leading-- “Something for just a little extra.”

The manager's eyes fix on him, scrutinising and again the mark on his neck. _Cursed, unwanted_ dully throbs in reminder. He opens his mouth, about to deny-- it chokes, words caught in a twist, the rush of energy that shakes him with silent laughter. _That tickled_.

“If rumour is to be believed. _He was a test_ ”

“ _Test?_ ” He almost squarks the word. “I-I told you--”

“So you claim!” The dismissal cuts through his denial. Cuts through as the manager's hand moves, again fingers poke and trace, some fascination that makes Héctor shiver. Breathes coming quick and light. Almost dizzy as the man over him continues to accuse. “But I propose you got _scared_. Your little _test_ worked too well." He can feel the hands inch lower and wants _nothing more_ than to demand him stop. But his breath is caught somewhere between horror and shame. "So dare I wonder, have you done this before?"

He shudders. “N-no. Never…” the admittance really drives in the madness of the situation. His bones tremble, the manager's movements pausing for a moment and he can just tell-- “I-I've _never_ done this before”

And he doesn't want to.

“In life or in death?” The manager's hand seems to move all the faster, tickling its way down, burning trails that leave him swallowing down screams. _“Never?”_

“I-I'm m-married! I h-have a _daughter!_ ” He shudders, feeling the creeping fingers dip where they’re not welcome. Arms coming around with the instinct to push Casales away, off him, _consequences could be--_

"Well that hardly means a thing now does it Capriccio." Casales says clearly relishing in the sounds he was making. "It is hardly unheard of for a maricón to marry and have a child, in order to hide after all"

“I-I couldn't-- I made vows to God” Héctor wheezes, panic rising as Casales touch becomes more intense. The man not even seeming to spare a thought for how he feels in all this.

“Maybe so, and yet here you are now!” The man practically seems to crow the statement as it rocks in Héctor's head. He shudders, feeling those fingers creep, dipping into his pelvic bowel and--

“Parar! Parar! Eso es suficiente!” He cries, legs kicking out, hands scrambling and the stinging burn of tears at the edges of his eye sockets. He can't handle this.

Just once or not. But Casales seems hardly interested in stopping, the man only pausing for a few moments, taking in his admittedly useless struggling and frowning. 

“What's wrong Capriccio?” He whimpers, legs struggling in attempt to fold themselves together. Protect him from this-- “It will be alright, just calm down Capriccio, calmarse!” The man draws back. Just enough to let him breathe.

Hands off of him. But the fact still remains, it hardly feels like the manager is about to back off. It's more-- he closes his eyes, fighting down the roaring panic and fear. He doesn't want to do this.

He doesn't care if he won't have the money to pay anymore, is keeping a room worth--

“Hush Capriccio, I know you're scared, but it will all be fine” the manager's voice is soft. Soothing in a way Héctor hadn't known it could be and slowly his eyes open, meeting the manager's ones. And for a moment the panic dies.

He can breathe. He inhales shakily before nodding. Casales barely spares a second before he's on him again. Touch too gentle, too easy, unwanted but better than--

He shudders, feeling the hands at his pelvis again. A shuddery feeling as he can feel the rough bone on bone. Running over and tracing-- he chokes on a sound, a moan like a dying cat. His markings feel like they're burning and he claps his arms up. Smothering the sound with his hands.

It burns as the man leans back. Removing his own clothing. Shredding the last physical barriers between them before returning to looming over him. His eyes burn. 

“Why hide it Capriccio? You have such a lovely voice” Casales eyes set on his own. Promises, reassurances and yet behind them Héctor can just barely catch a glimpse of something dark and greedy. He shudders closing his eyes and shaking his head.

His hands remain clapped where they are even as he senses the manager wait. It prickles in the air. “I-I…” he whimpers around his hands. “P-please--” _stop, I don't want this._  He's in too far already. Well over his head and the man is hardly the type to stop.

Not when it started with a locked door.

He closes his eyes, breaths short as he forces himself to accept it as the manager gently strokes his hair back. Broadcasting reassurances and assurances and--

He has to trust him. Just a little, he did submit just to-- _only once_. 

He only has to do this once. And then he has a month to get things in order. A job, money, and maybe moving… depends on security. But for now, he can almost trust. So awkwardly he nods his head, only faintly whimpering as Casales lowers himself down. 

Héctor can't help but tense, breath hitching in the moment before their pelvises meet together. It feels weird, even as Casales soothes him, maintaining eye contact as his body squirms with a new energy and he arches into the manager’s touch.

Slowly, slowly the man moves on top of him. But his own body feels stiff, trapped in that arched pose as something burns up his throat. Making him queasy and uncomfortable and--

“Come on Capriccio, I know you can do this. Just rock your hips" the words make him wince. But, in a weird way they are a form of encouragement. Uncomfortable, faltering he does. Hips shifting, rocking and--

He moans, feeling them press up against the man as he presses down. _Matching him,_ letting him draw the line and set the pace. He finds that even at this slow something so achingly familiar begins to stir.

A long forgotten pleasure. Almost to the point of it been foreign, and not just due to his position on his back below another man. He groans, _something_ been ground against sending a jolt through him snapping his eyes open and his hands come up.

Grabbing onto the broader shoulders of the one fucking him. Fingers digging in as he feels overwhelmingly as if he'd been struck by lightning or something. Casales eyes meet his own and there is a definite _greed_ in the older man's gaze.

“That feel good Capriccio?” The words barely register as the man takes his next broken moan and tighter grip as an answer. His own legs jerking and shifting as the man _speeds up_. 

That spot just keeps getting rolled over, sending sparks straight through him. Overwhelmingly, maddeningly, sickening. He finds his body crying for more, all the while his head burns with the echo of how _wrong_ it all was. 

Casales hands curl, gripping him tight, yet more. He almost feels lost as the man picks up more speed, pressing him down, pressing him further as he cries out. Too overwhelmed to even remember.

“Sí! Sí! Sing for me _Capriccio!_ ” Casales voice is triumphant as he chokes on his own words. Chokes on responses and groans. Crying out as the energy blazes everywhere and he feels Casales pull him closer. Locking them together, locking--

“Ayyy! Señ-or!” His voice is loud, hyped up on the energy and he can barely think. Barely keep up as everything in him is awash with sensation. “F-fuck!” 

He can feel their bones shaking together. The closeness unexpectedly secure, driving any hesitation away as there is only the moment. Only the useless broken sounds and the energy.

He only barely registers when teeth wrap around-- “P-par-” they clamp down, stealing his faint objection as the energy leaps. His cries reach a fever pitch, loud and reverberating around the room as the energy just swells. A crescendo, it keeps rising and his hands and feet curl. Holding onto the manager as he groans over him. The sounds are with wild abandonment, something close to animalistic.

As quickly as it rises it crashes. Leaving him trembling, bones held flush against the older man's body as he faintly sighs. Grip relaxing and eyes fluttering shut. 

They flicker back open as the manager's weight settles on him. Barely sparing a tired glance before fluttering back shut. One hand shifting, curling to cover the new mark on his neck, a dazed kind of awareness of it.

But that quickly slips away, slipping with his consciousness.

* * *

 _What time is it?_ Héctor’s return to consciousness is in a bleery state. He feels oddly secure, wrapped up warm and on something too comfortable to be the bed with loose springs in his apartment. He groans, shifting, feeling _something_ wrapped around and framing him.

He leans his head back and blinks. That's not his apartment roof. 

“Buenos días, Bella Durmiente!” He stiffens, feeling the presence of someone else far too close and, more acutely the lack of certain-- “I trust you rested well! Especially after our activities.” He feels the man leave, gathering up the clothing discarded from the night before and dropping it by him.

He can barely respond. A miserable coil going through him as he curls himself around in a useless attempt to cover up before reaching for his clothing. Why? The manager doesn't say anything more. Patiently awaiting a response as he pulls on his clothing, acutely feeling the man's gaze.

“S-sí Señor… I slept well” he eventually says and the manager's expression lights up.

“Good, good! And Héctor, how are you feeling? Alright?” He shivers at the question, a queasiness sinking into his bones as he can't quite look at the broader man. He slips off the plush chair and takes a breath.

“I-I, _fine_ Señor.” He says, trying not to sway where he stands. He feels like he's going to be sick if he even looks at the man. “N-now if it's not too much trouble… I have job hunting to get back to!” Although first he plans on having a shower.

Washing away the dust and the grime of the previous night. 

“Ahh Sí, sí of course. Well I wish you luck then Capriccio” he shivers at the nickname, something boiling and prickling under his bones. Still he walks to the door as indicated. Hesitating for just a moment before trying the handle.

It's not locked. “G-Gracias Señor Casales!” He finally gives the manager a last glance. Shivering in the man's gaze before smiling. “A-adios!”

Shutting the door behind him he hastens upstairs. Towards his floors communal shower room. Only stopping by his own room to grab a change. He feels itchy and not quite clean in these clothes after they were on the office floor.

In the shower he closes and locks the door. Resting his skull against the wood. The weight of it all crashing down at once. Stealing his breath and making his knees knock. How could he--

He turns on the water, so hot it's practically scalding. Not bothering to strip as he curls up under the spray. Body shaking and bones rattling as he sniffs. He curls his knees close, wraps his arms around and sniffs. Tears beginning to burn but vanishing quickly with the rest of the spray.

_How could he?_

There was opportunity, somewhere in there to say no. To fight back, push the manager, Casales away. _But he didn't._ He just lay there and-- he drops his head to his knees. The scalding water not enough to burn away his shame, to burn away--

He winces, hands coming up to cover over the two marks. One from someone he'd still trusted, _thought of as a friend even_. The other-- his fingers trace the divets Casales teeth made. Nicks in his bone and he sniffs.

It was only for the rent, only so he could stay here another month.

But his mind conjures up that locked door. Conjures the risk and he shakes. _He put himself there._ He can only hope the manager is true to his word now. That the flicker of trust he placed, wasn't spent foolishly.

Because when he went in… _the door was locked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: This is technically-- well a sneaky peak. 
> 
> Also, this wasn't meant to be the next oneshot done, but welp. Here we are, so hope you enjoyed.


	5. Hola Policía

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content Warnings:** coercion, coerced sex, dubcon, abuse of authority, corrupt police, powerplay, punishment, rough handling, uniforms, against a table, rationalization, threats, bribery, rough sex, titles, semi-public

“Disturbing the peace, arguing with an Officer…” Héctor hardly looks to the officer as his latest crimes and failures of crossing the bridge are recounted back to him. “The Unregistered use of a Flying Alebrije in a limited flight zone…”

“That’s-- Well he wasn’t--“

“Ahh right, a _stolen_ alebrije then… _”_ the Officer cuts him off, rolling his eyes as he drops the clipboard to the table between them. “You really need to clean up your act amigo!”

“Amigo?” Héctor dramatically gasps, pouncing on the word. Mind already spinning with how he can play up his reaction to this, acting touched and smiling at the Officer, awkwardly acting touched. “Oh that’s so nice-- for you to say that!”

He ignores the eyeroll from the officer as he scoops his hat off his head and clutches it. Before using it to faintly fan himself, keeping an eye on the unimpressed looking officer as he does so. Watching all his minute reactions.

“It’s just been… such a _hard_ Dia de Muertos!” he continues, not put off by the lack of a real reaction. Leaning himself forwards, hands on the table almost begging as he gives a wide eyed pleading puppy look to the man. “I could really use an amigo now!”

The man still doesn’t look any more impressed. Letting out a huff of breath and he keeps his smile up. His act, eagerly nodding his head as his hands disconnect. Playing out a small show as he continues to speak, his hands helping each other up-- 

“And amigos… they help their amigos!” He plays his part so easily scooping his hands back up in a fluid motion as he flops himself on the desk. He can _feel_ the officer’s attention. “Listen, you get me across that bridge tonight and I'll make it worth your while!”

“Oh? Really now?” He falters, caught off guard slightly by the man actually cutting across. “And just how exactly are you going to do that now?”

How--

“Oh! You like De la cruz?” He spots the poster on the wall. Quickly picking up steam once more and burying the brief flair of pain regarding his former friend. “He and I go way back! I could get you--”

“Ay ay ay! I'll stop you right there!” He falters again, nervously looking at the officer as he stands and walks around “You think I wouldn't already have tickets as such a fan?” 

“Uhh… no…” he looks away awkwardly, before brightening up. “But I could still get you--”

He cuts off as the officer holds up a hand. Stopping his words short as the man shakes his head. Walking around the table and--

“Se-señor?” He shifts backwards. Scrambling towards the wall as the man shuts the door to the room. He can hear the faint click of the lock and there's a _shift_ to the air of the office. 

“You are of course aware _amigo,_ what you're attempting is _bribery._ That's rather illegal as well” he faintly registers nodding his head as the officer turns back to him. _There's something in that gaze_.

“O-of course, b-but I--”

“I'm not much interested in tickets anyway!” The man’s words make something in his chest tighten, especially when that gaze fixes on him, making him feel like he's a mouse in the eyes of a cat. “Not beyond the ones I hand out. Of course this could be overlooked, if there's _something else_ you're offering” 

Something else--

“Uh well. I used to do a tour-- no? Uh, I'm a músico in my own right, I could-- I-I work with Ceci, could get-- uh, I'm willing to work as a j-janitor?” with each shake of the head he feels something sink, especially as the officer gets closer to the table again. “I-I'm good with k-kids…” it’s a weak final attempt at best. 

The officer feels _too close_. And he's backed up, almost pressed flat to the wall at the end of the table. Wide eyed he stares as the man looms, pressing palms flat to the wood of the tabletop.

“Ay. But there is something else you were offering before wasn't there? Something...” he feels the urge to swallow. A dry hollow feeling in the back of his mouth. Surely the officer can't be-- “ _Worth my while_ , sí?”

“I... I--”

“Bribery is a crime _amigo_.” He falters mouth snapping back shut as the officer's eyes bore into his own. “I should write you up right now. Lock you up for the rest of the holiday. But--”

“S-Señor please, this-- I just--”

“ _You_ said it amigo, not me!” He cringes as he feels the man’s hands creep forwards. Curling at the base of his legs, over his ankles and-- 

He yelps, feeling himself dragged back forwards. Legs dangling over the edge of the table around the officer's body as he is forced to lean half-back to catch his balance.

To remain stable.

“Something, worth my while, ay? So… how're you going to do that, _amigo?_ ” He shivers in the position he finds himself in. Cringing as the man’s hands drift faintly up over his tibias and fibulas. That’s not-- why is he? “Or was that just an exaggeration? Should I--”

“No! Nnno please I-- I--” His voice is high, pitched up in some panic, fear alight as the officer gives him such a nasty smile. The hands creeping further up and he swallows hollow. “N-no…”

“Well then, seems we agree” He shudders closing his eyes. Weakly shaking his head. “So how are you to take _responsibility_ now, amigo _?”_

“P-please Señor--”

“Policía” he freezes. “Soy un policía, un Oficial. You _shall_ refer to me with the _proper_ respect.” He again feels a dry, useless swallow. Something in the man’s-- the _officer’s_ tone. It tells him that there isn't any room for arguments.

“S-sí O-oficial…” the words feel _dangerous,_ as if somehow he's just made a mistake as he meets the officer's eyes as the man's hands creep even further up. He shifts awkwardly, legs faintly twitching and hands curling. “I-It's just I-- that is-- please-- I-I just--”

“Want to cross the bridge?” The officer looms. He leans back, feeling the officer lean forwards, scrambling for-- he moves, _desperate,_ he has to put some distance, _any_ distance between them. He’s barely moved at all before he's being jerked back to place.

A whoosh of air leaving him when he's slammed, bones _jarring_ painfully against the table, a cry leaving his mouth. Pressed down and pinned against the table in a painful hold. 

His eyes widen, nothing short of an icy bolt of _terror_ going through him as the man, the officer looms over him. He feels more than sees the officer move--

He shivers, a tingle of _something_ going through his bones as the officer’s gaze scans him over, eyes shadowed by his hat. _That gaze._ He can only stare up with wide eyes and a tremble. This, this can't be proper for an officer can it?

“How's about instead _amigo,_ I let you go-- _no trouble_ \--if you're a good little boy for me now?”  

“I uhh, what?” He falters, not quite certain what the officer is-- “Hey!!” He jerks as the officer slips a hand over his ribcage and-- “Wait, wait, wait, wait!” 

Panic floods him as he feels the officer move his jacket, pausing only at his frantic words and gasping. A cocked brow and slight smirk.

“Oh, do you want to do it yourself then for me?” The words send a shudder through him and the officer only draws back enough to let him breathe.

“I-I just-- give me--” he takes a deep breath. Mind whirling and frantic trying to pick apart and understand-- “Ay!!” He jerks as a hand traces up his spine, where it's clear and exposed. That does not help, sending a confusing torrent of feelings and thoughts through him.

And that _gaze._  

“O-oficial I--” he falters as the motion is repeated, the sensation foreign and alien. Shuddering in his bones as he squirms. Feet pushing him back, scrambling him almost--

“Hold up there amigo!” He lets out an undignified squeak as again he’s _yanked into position_ by the officer. Legs dangling, the officer between them. He whimpers, closing his eyes and shaking his head, he just needs to-- “Already shaking in anticipation, amigo?”

He stills. “I-I'm just--” he stops. How can he get out of this. The man has made it pretty clear that under him, he has _two choices._ Neither is really any better than the other. He groans out some nonsense sound, head dropping back, smashing on the table. 

He jerks, hyperaware as again the officer moves and--

“Wait! Wait! No! Nononono! I was--”

“Ay dios, are you still undecided?” there is a distinct bite in the words “You know, most officers wouldn't be this lenient amigo, I'm not usually this lenient either-- but it's a holiday. You want to see your family. Still--”

“No! I just--” he cuts off as the man leers, gaze fixed into his eyes. A _rough,_ surely _bruising grasp_ on him and that sharp, predatory grin. Again there is a jolt of _something_ in his bones. “I-I--” he whimpers cutting off. “I c-can do it m-myself!” 

He isn't relieved at all when the officer steps back. Watching and leering as he shakily sits up. He can _feel_ the unspoken demand to stay up on the table. Already envision the hands that will force him to lie back down there if he--

He slips his jacket off in a fluid movement. Discarding it off the side of the table he feels queasy. Exposed and unsure and-- His fingers pause at his belt. Or rather the rope serving as a belt. He doesn't--

“Vamos. Are you getting cold feet now?” The officer’s faux jovial and at ease tone makes him flinch. “What happened to that boldness from before, with _all those hints_ ? The way you gazed with such wide eyes, the little cutesy act…”  A shake of the head, the officer motioning to his current position “ _even_ this!”

“I-it's-- I--” he can't understand how any of that lead to this. What was he doing, leaning forward, being expressive and okay… maybe hopping up onto the table was a bit much but-- he takes a rather shaky breath. He has to find something that will make the officer back off.

Leave him alone. At least long enough for him to--

“Apúrate!” He winces. Fingers finally fumbling and-- he lets out a cry as the officer, tired of simply watching by moves to act for him. Rough hands, not caring for his squirming but to press him back, quickly work to tug and pull until the rope falls away and his pants are able to easily be pulled down with the straps of his suspenders pushed off his shoulders.

Now he really is fully exposed.

“St-- d-don't be sso--” he whines, the officer settling himself right in. 

“Qué? Speak up!” He looks up with wide desperate eyes, an awkward grin and attempt to--

“Uhh th-this is--” he swallows again, shivers racing up and down his spine in the officer's gaze. A hand moves motioning to-- all of their position. “I-it's making i-it harder to th-think and--”

“What, is this… _exciting you_?” The officer sounds, amused? Wait-- wait-- “you _like_ this?”

“Qu-qué?” His voice cracks faintly, more an exclamation than-- he jerks. Feeling hands on his legs prying them apart and-- _is that gaze worse now?!_

He lets out a faint whine as the officer’s grin sharpens up at him. Practically fanged. Gaze filled with a vicious hunger when faced with his now bared bones in clear view. It's all he can do to keep from trembling too much as the officer eyes him over again. The faintest of whistles sounding out making him wince. 

“Wai--” the objection is barely formed before he is letting out a startled cry. Teeth, pressure-- “Ahhh Mierda! Wh-at are you--” he lets out another yelp as again-- “Fu-uck!!” _Is this really happening?_

“What was that, amigo?” He inhales, feeling the officer press forwards, hands keeping him-- 

“Joder!” He gasps as he feels the man practically rut against him in his looming. “Joder parar!”

“Is that anyway to address a _Policía Oficial?”_ The officer’s face is too close again, snarling into his own. He winces closing his eyes, feeling the breath on his face. “Unless--”

He lets out a near squark as the man yanks him up, hoisting his pelvis into the air, free hand whacking against his tailbone. The sound rings out loud, echoing in the air around them. 

“You're just _asking_ to be punished?”

“N-nno I’m--” he yelps, cut off as _again,_ a hand smacks against his tailbone. Sending a jolt through him, bones trembling as he whimpers. For a _third_ time he's smacked. “Carajo!? I didn't eve--” 

He's cut off when he feels the man’s hands grab at his neck, yanking him up-- for a moment there is a dizzy rush-- disorientating before he's slammed back down. His face pressed against the grain of the wood, palms flat and aching to push him away-- what-- what?!

“Alright, if you're that eager!” He hears more than sees the officer fumbling, the sound of bone on metal, the click and rumpled clothing falling-- _wait-- nooo!_

He pushes, head spinning as he tries to look back. A thrill in his bones, a shiver, surely-- he's slammed back down, bones protesting the treatment. Head spinning, a rush of breath leaving him as he _feels_ the officer hoist himself up, joining him on the desk--

Hands over his own, pinning him down, breathing harsh right by his stapes. A shiver races up and down his spine when he feels himself pressed down. Bones rutting on the wood, a groan. The officer shifts, pressing down, pushing him further-- he cries out-- bones on bones, the touch of that cloth against him _distinctly off--_

What is-- why is this?! His own voice, the sound of their bones rocking together-- it's all too loud and _strange._ He squeezes his eyes shut as there's a groan by his stape, a hand coming up, fingers harshly digging-- he howls-- 

“St-sto--” but the word is caught-- somewhere between the pain from the roughness and an odd curl of-- 

“You really _do_ like this!” The mocking words ring and echo-- his ribcage shuddering as one of the officer’s hands pull back, curling around and hoisting him closer. Back pressed against the officer's ribcage through the uniform jacket.

“Ngnnnooo!” The word is more a groan, hands clasping, grasping the table’s edges tightly, feeling almost as if he were chipping the wood. Legs twitching, kicking at the officer’s movements, harsh and demanding. Dizzying him.

“Oh really?” The man's voice bites in his stape, electing a sharp gasp as he feels himself pressed down. All but overcome in-- why-- this isn't--

“Sí! Th-there's n-o way--” he lets out a choked gasp-- the other's full weight pressing down-- forcing him practically still-- heat curling and coiling, bubbling in his bones. He can't-- it's only because-- 

“I think that's the wrong answer, _niño!”_

“No!” He barks, only to find the hand holding him flush releasing and-- his bones jolt, painfully jarring on the wood to another cry, the officer swiftly yanking him back and rolling him over so dazedly he stares up. The officer's fingers are like claws, pressing, digging into him.

One hand snakes up into his hair, twisting and pulling while the man forces him to the point that he has _no mobility left_. 

Why, why then do his bones tremble, a thrill in them, in him as those dark eyes, shadowed by that hat grow closer, clothed ribs pressing and interlocking with his own, the meeting of their pelvises-- how is-- this isn't?

“What was that, _amigo?”_ His so close, so close and that static is maddeningly present in his bones. Words snarled right into his face, fingers that dig, pulling painfully--

“Ngnhh--” his voice is strangled-- confused in the rush of-- His hands strain, caught at his sides, legs twitching the need-- the want--

_What does he want? To stop, to continue--_

“Speak up boy!” He jerks his head slightly, gasping at the pin-pricks of fingers on his skull, feeling the man rock and just stop--

“I-I'm no-not--” he whimpers, breath mere pants as he weakly, responds, meeting the officer's narrowed gaze. “Th-this isn't-- st--” why is this-- why isn't he-- why hasn't any--

“Oh really? Are you _lying_ to me now? To an oficial?”

“Shu--” he yelps, slammed further back against the table, head almost smacking against the edge, a flare of dizzy white. “N-of course not--” his eyes close-- he can't-- that's just not-- And yet--

“Ay-- why are you denying this?” The words make him flinch, the subtle shift pulling a whine, maddeningly close, yet purposely-- “How hard is it to just be honest niño?”

“I am!!” He calls, eyes snapping open, head faintly shaking, he is! _He is,_ isn't he? He is not-- cannot be enjoying this, it hurts, it's _wrong._ He has to be-- “I-I am?”

“Really?” There's another oh so subtle shift, and his head spins, desperate for just a little-- “Why be so difficult then? Unless you _wanted_ this?” He shudders, fingers in his hair _twisting_ “You’re always causing trouble, pushing and poking, testing those boundaries, _seeking punishment!”_

“Th-that's--”

“And ay! If you aren't enjoying this? Why are you so eager to push for more? Crying out, squirming and pressing, _I can feel that tremble in your bones!_ Ay, ay, ay-- unless--” there's a pause, his head spinning, desperate, he is-- he can't be-- that's not-- no! 

“O-Oficial p-por favor--”

“¿Por favor qué?” The tone is _so close_ to a tease, but behind that is a firmness that makes him swallow, choking him up and-- “Vamos, where are your manners, niño? Say what you want clearly or I won't know what you really want… Unless maybe you _enjoy_ this as well!” 

“I-I--”

“Is that it niño?” The next movement, the faint rub-- the words that ring and echo-- the absence of any--

“No!! Por favor, Señor Policía! I-I need-- I want--” he chokes, he can't-- how is this-- why is he? 

“Sí? What is it?” 

“I-I want--” he squeezes his eyes shut, hands fisting faintly, teeth wearing at his lips. He can’t quite… “P-por fa-vor… I nnnneeed-- ngnnn-- O-oficial!” his words choke off into a whine.

“Sí?” The Officer isn't moving why isn't he-- he struggles, just faintly to wriggle, to arch his back and press--

“P-por favor! Por favor… t-touch… O-oficial! T-touch m-me!” he feels warm, almost too warm speaking. Accepting this and _giving in._ His bones desperately cry out and he needs-- “P-Por-argh!! Por fa-vor!!” another of those whines, the faintest of wriggles that he can do, hands clutching for _something._ And his markings burn as he looks off into the distance not able to face this situation.

“Ay,” the officer’s weight slightly eases “and how-- how should I touch you?” He's still doing this? He leans his head back faintly, barely wincing at the digging fingers in his hair.

“L-like--” he gasps squirming, struggling desperately to bring his hands around, struggling to-- “th-there!! Theretherethere! O-oficial!” He shudders, arching up into the officer as the man grins. Pressing down onto him. “P-por-- por fa-- le-- let me…” he shudders, almost whining. That static absolutely howls in his bones. It’s not enough, it’s not-- it’s been so long, too long and now--

“Like this?” He gasps, feeling the man press down. Movements purposely harsh, rough fingers clawing at him as that energy sharply rises in response.

“S-í!” He jerks, gasping with a moan. Legs jerking as the officer presses harder against him. Another moan-- “Sí! Sí!!” he cries out, abandoning any dignity or shame that’s left. He needs this, he-- he wants this-- wants that touch and the harshness against him. Something _anything_ for the sweet, sweet release at the end. “Sí! Sí--sííí!”

His voice is almost unrecognizeable, but he willingly loses himself under the other’s touch. Feeling the officer rock against him. Movements harsh, pressing him, pushing him painfully against the desk focing cries from his throat. Mixed pain and pleasure and ay dios-- he sees stars.

So lost in it all.

“M-mmmm---” He slurrs a bit, not quite able to gather the word, not able to-- “P-ppp-- por faaaa-vor O--oficial!” _theretherethere_. All he can think, all he can-- he whines, again feeling the pace slow, the officer drawing back for a moment, eyes sharp as the energy is buzzing, a static in his bones, so high, right there and yet--- “Nnnngooo do-don’t…”

“You like this Rivera? Such a naughty boy!” the officer snarls, hand fisting in his hair and pulling, but still no rocking, no more bringing him--

“S-S!!” he practically cries, looking up at the man, hips straining in their position, arched off the desk. Eyes pleading for-- “Por favor… M-Más!” he is whining, lost in just _wanting_ to finish, to come down from this high--

“You like _all of this!”_ the man grins. Tutting “Such weird tastes… to be roughly treated, punished…”

“P-Por… favor… O--oficial… ugh…” he feels the man’s hands come down again. Running up his ribs sending shudders through him. A cry as they’re pressed.

“You long for that touch, long for _me_ io punish you! Do you want that? Ay _Rivera?”_

“Sí!” He screams. He looks up at the officer. Eyes wide, lips almost trembling, bones shaking with the want the need. “P-por favor… let me… Por favor!” _let him come, let them finish._ He doesn’t understand why, can’t even comprehend how his bones long for this, how clouded his mind is. “O-Oficial… I-I--”

“Oficial Tapia!” the officer, _Tapia_ grins down at him. “Now-- what is it?”

“P-por fa-- m-más! M-ma-make me--” Make him guilty, make him cry, make this _finish!_ He closes his eyes, crying out at again, he’s pressed down. Harsh heavy hands on his shoulder blades. A body that fits _too comfortably_ over his own the wood digging into his back and that static shock thrum of energy that rushes through his bones.

Curling and coiling with the cacophony of the sound they make. The only sound-- the only thing to focus on as the man presses him down. Tapia bending him right back, slamming him hard against the table and all he can do is let out broken sounds and cries, wriggling and weakly matching--

“I-I--- therethere--- ther---” he can’t even finish a single word, can’t-- “T-T-Ttttt” It all rushes over him, drowning him as he loses the ability to even make a comprehensible sound in the rush. Energy pouring through him, overwhelming as the man presses him bones bending, pressed, almost feeling as if in this see of sensation he might--

He might--

And it ends. Leaving him shivering, the officer still there, looking down at him. Eyes half lidded before he’s leaving him there on the desk. Settling back in that chair, allowing him to just-- he closes his eyes, shivering for a moment.

“Well--” The man lets out a long breath. “You certainly didn’t lie about that… did you… _amigo?”_


End file.
